Riddikulus Potter
by Lady Ajissa Kari
Summary: During the the opening of third year, Harry Potter and Severus Snape find their assumptions challenged and their fears tested. Warnings for abuse, OOC due to Harry and Severus's shifting paradymes, and AU.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Harry Potter Books are the intellectual and financial property of J.K. Rowling. I receive no financial compensation for writing fanfiction. I merely get the fantastical pleasure of playing in her world, and you get the pleasure..or displeasure…of reading the result.

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Chapter One

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* * *

Harry Potter subconscously rubbed his left side as he laughed with his classmates. Tears poured from the corners of his eyes, largely due to the uncontrollable mirth at the sight of the eight-legged creature crashing into walls and desks…and the sharp pains that were traveling down the left side of his chest. He took great, steadying breaths in a failing effort to curb his expressiveness.

A part of him didn't want to stop. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt so…free. The familiar emotional sensation of flying on a broom, he mused. Perhaps it was the fact that he didn't want the feeling to end that hindered his sense of self-control. Another stab of pain. _I really have to stop._

He was suddenly struck with an idea. Harry had been surprised when Snape returned to the classroom, shortly after Neville's boggart. Harry's laughter momentarily increased with the thought of Snape seeing himself wearing the clothes of Neville's gran. _It's perfect. All I have to do is get one good look—_Harry forced his eyes to shift to the left, at the wall where Professor Snape was leaning, his arms folded over his chest. Sure enough, Snape was looking straight at him, scowling hatefully at him. The sight instantly sobered him. He drew in a deep breath, wincing painfully as another sharp pain filled his chest. Harry allowed himself a small, sardonic smile.

_Thanks, Professor. I can't tell you how grateful I am that you decided to stay. My bruised ribs are even more grateful. Who says a hateful, greasy Potions Master can't serve a useful purpose every now and then. I really owe you one._ Snape's eyes widened in momentary shock. Harry jumped. _Oh no, did I say that aloud?_

Harry looked around in panic, seeing everyone staring at him. Hermione nudged him. "Why are you just standing there, Harry? It's your turn," she whispered.

"Oh, right," he said lamely. He stepped forward, watching apprehensively as the boggart began to spin. _Well, at least it won't have the element of surprise. Everyone knows my biggest fear is Vol—_But Harry never finished his train of thought as an overwhelming, terrifying realization struck him and the boggart became a dementor. Harry heard a distant, collective scream as a chilling fog enveloped him.

"_No, not Harry!" A woman's voice pleaded frantically._

"_Stand aside, silly girl," a cold, clear voice said._

"_No, please! Not Harry! I'll do anything—"_

"_Stand aside—"_

"_Anything! Don't kill him!"_

"_Step away, girl! NOW!"_

"_Please! Kill me instead! Kill me!"_ But the fog was lifting, and Harry found himself blinking at the back of a tall, lanky, greasy-haired man in black robes and…himself?

But something was wrong about the other Harry. He was almost certain that he wasn't that attractive-looking…or that tall. And the other Harry was wearing an expression that Harry didn't like one bit, oddly reminiscent of Draco Malfoy.

"You're so pathetic," Boggart-Harry taunted Snape.

Harry's eyes widened in shock. _Snape's afraid of me? But—_

"You haven't changed a bit. You're still the sniveling, bed-wetting loser you've always been—"

Harry stared in disbelief as the boggart continued to humiliate the trembling Potions Master.

"That's…not…me," Harry said lamely, blinking stupidly at his arrogant pseudo-twin. Snape flinched loudly as his eyes snapped toward the real Harry Potter, his eyes becoming large as he noticed the other students for the first time. He paled even more as his worst nightmare came to fruitation: complete humiliation in front of Potter's spawn and his friends. Boggart-Harry's eyes gleamed triumphantly.

"What made you think she'd ever want you? My father's a bigger man than you'll ever—"

_Mum? Snape loved my mum?_

"Everybody sees it. You're fooling no one—"

Harry was becoming increasingly agitated as unshed tears formed in the Potion Master's eyes. The boggart-Harry strongly reminded him of Dudley Dursley, the bullying tyrant. Harry scowled. There was nothing on the planet Harry hated more than bullies, besides himself, perhaps. Which was perfect, since the boggart closely matched the real Harry, despite the apparent height issue and its eyes were hazel and its nose was longer. Close enough, anyways.

"Shut up," Harry clipped in a low, dangerously calm voice as he took a step forward.

"—sniveling—"

"You said that already," Harry snapped tersely, his voice still low.

"—worthless, weak, miserable—"

"Shut up," Harry demanded, his voice raising slightly in anger as he stepped closer.

"Mr Graynickers…can't even afford decent—"

Harry snorted. "Yeah, look who's talking," he muttered darkly. Snape's bloodshot eyes shot him a doubletake, but Harry didn't notice. He was too immersed in glaring at his pseudocopy with intense dislike.

"Because who could possibly love a Snivellus. Freak—"

Harry's eyes popped angrily as an echo from his past filled his mind.

"_Stop crying, you sniveling freak, or you'll get much worse!"_

Harry raised his wand in rage as he stepped beside Snape. "SHUT UP!" He bellowed, snapping his wand forward. Suddenly, Boggart-Harry found itself standing completely disrobed, except for moldy-looking, hole-filled graying undershorts.

The Slytherins roared with laughter, and for once, Harry joined them, but his laugh was humorless. He smirked in grim satisfaction at the look of confused horror on boggart-Harry's face.

"_Now_ who's the Snivellus?!" Harry barked before turning on his heels and exiting the room, his robes billowing.

* * *

"That was…_unexpected_," Severus mused quietly to himself as he sat at his desk, staring into a tumbler of Firewhisky that he had poured, but probably wouldn't consume. The brat-who-lived, Potter's spawn, had actually defended him from the boggart Potter. He frowned thoughtfully as he reclined in his seat. Something was nagging him. Even in Severus's terrified mindset, he couldn't help but notice it, the subtle differences between Potter and the boggart. Once the real Potter had stepped forward, the differences became quite apparent to Severus's compulsively analytical mind. Size wise, the boggart-Potter dwarfed the real spawn by at least a head and a half.

Severus snorted. Had he actually believed Potter to be that tall? He couldn't recall, but the comparison had brought something uncomfortably home for him. The real Potter was abnormally small for his age, for his genetics, even. Severus couldn't remember seeing anyone from the Potters _or _the Evans that was as short as the boy. He had watched as the smaller boy stalked from the room in a fairly decent impression of the Mad Bat-out-of-Hell robes-swishing routine that Severus himself had trademarked after so many years. _Oh, the irony!_ He vaguely remembered comparing Potter's height to those of his classmates. Potter was easily the shortest male in his year. The next shortest, Draco Malfoy, beat him by over half a head.

_Hmm, a dwarf Potter, _Severus mused, trying his best to sneer, but failing miserably for once. He couldn't help the feeling that somehow, he had missed something. Trying to redirect his thoughts, Severus returned to comparing Potter to the boggart. Height aside, the differences were so subtle that Severus wondered if he had imagined them.

His frown deepened. He didn't know why, but he had to know for sure.

…

After setting the borrowed Pensieve on his desk, Severus pressed his wand to his forehead and withdrew the memory. He'd take no pleasure from reliving the experience. But if he focused on Potter's perspective more—

Who was he fooling? But he felt compelled to proceed, regardless. He prodded the memory with his wand and plunged into the basin with a courage he did not feel.

The memory began just as he had changed his mind about staying for Lupin's session, a decision he'd regret to his dying day. But rather than joining his memory self by leaning against the wall, he joined the rather fat line of third years awaiting their turn with the boggart. Potter was a little further in the back, just in front of Granger and, of course, his snakes. Severus stood beside the boy, watching intently.

Potter's eyes darted momentarily toward the black-clad man on the wall, who had just folded his arms across his chest and shot Potter a venomous glare. Potter winced so hard he nearly bowled over Weasley in front of him. Reddening slightly, Potter shifted his gaze toward the boggart. Every time a classmate had confronted the boggart, Potter had laughed with the others. But it was a very forced laugh, very unlike the one that had angered Severus earlier. He noticed Miss Granger shoot Potter a concerned glance before returning his attention to the boy.

He leaned forward carefully, to examine Potter's eyes. Although Legilimancy was useless in a pensieve, Severus was still adequate at accessing emotions, especially 'open books' like Potter.

Severus' jaw dropped. _Damn._ He couldn't believe it. He had thought Albus had been lying when he had said Potter had her eyes. All the times he'd looked Potter in the eye—how in the hell had he missed Lily's eyes? His confusion deepened as he saw the flickering feelings in those bright green emeralds. It had been a while since he'd seen so much depth in a person's eyes. On the surface, he could see the complacent, yielding, submissive acceptance he usually saw when Potter was not in the close vicinity of him. A bit beyond was the bitter defiance he was accustomed to seeing, usually _directed _at him. Even deeper was a mixture of guilt, shame, and resentment. Finally, a painful resignation and feelings of inadequacy. But there was something deeper yet.

Severus had always been aware that Potter was hiding something. He had assumed that it was due to the fact that Potter didn't want everyone knowing what a spoiled, arrogant brat he was…manipulating, cowardly, and irrationally reckless. _A comsumate Gryffindor, _Severus had sneered.

But now it troubled Severus. As he looked deep into the pools of green, familiar feelings churned within his gut. Some of his own repressed memories nudged at his shields as Severus recognized the feelings for the first time. Sadness. Overwhelming, disturbing, pervasive melancholy. Pain. Anguish. Anxiety. Fear. Loneliness. Shame.

It was rather disconcerting to see those emotions…especially in _her_ eyes.

Potter's brows furrowed as he continued his mirthless charade of false laughter. He wrapped his arms around his stomach. Severus's eyes widened, troubled, at the familiarly defensive gesture. _No. Surely not…_

Weasley's turn came. For the first time, a small, knowing smile crept across Potter's face. Severus turned, curious, to see Weasley's biggest fear. He snorted. A giant spider. Weasley shook and whimpered. "Come on, Ron," Potter whispered softly.

Weasley gulped as he shakily pointed his wand. "_Riddiculus!_" Skates appeared on all eight feet of the giant spider. Trying to remain upright, the spider skidded across the room and crashed into a desk. Severus smirked as he watched his memory self cover his mouth and 'cough.' It _had _been funny, after all. The wayword spider attempted to get to its feet and skated clumsily across the room before slipping and falling on its massive belly.

Severus returned his attention to Potter, who was blinking stupidly at the spider's antics. His face contorted as the scene penetrated his mental restraints. Suddenly, Potter erupted into peals of laughter, free, pure, uninhibited mirth as the spider continued to careen into desks and walls. Severus realized, like he had in the memory, that he had never heard this Potter laugh. A real laugh, anyways.

He remembered what had made him so angry before. Potter's laugh, he had realized, was nothing like his father's. It was soft, evenly inflectioned, melodic. The teen gave an uncharacteristic snort, which caused him to laugh even louder. _Potter's laugh is beautiful, _Severus thought bitterly once more. As he looked over at his other self, he recalled what had led to his latest ire with the child. The other Severus was staring at Potter in shock. _Probably coming to the same conclusion I just did. _Then, his expression became bitter, and Severus remembered what he was thinking then. _I was thinking of the son that should have been mine and Lily's. The one with _that_ laugh. And then I was resenting Potter for having those kind of thoughts._

Potter's eyes filled with unshed tears as he rubbed his left side with his chest, wincing. _Wincing?_ Eventually, Potter's laughter became so uncontrollable that the guffaws of his peers faded as everyone began to stare. The teen's face became wet as the boy succumbed to a state of complete hysterics. A pained, desperate expression filled his face as he realized what was happening, rubbing his left ribcage constantly.

It seemed Potter had developed a plan, for his eyes quickly found those of the bitterly-seething Potions Master. Potter's laughter quickly abated under the teacher's hateful glare. Severus winced at his own furiosity. The final hint of laughter died from the boy's face, quickly replaced by a small, grateful yet sardonic smile. A voice from Potter's mind echoed through the room, Severus recalling that he had probed the boy's thoughts:

"—_how grateful I am that you decided to stay. My bruised ribs are even more grateful. Who says a hateful, greasy Potions Master can't serve a useful purpose every now and then. I really owe you one,"_ the voice echoed earnestly.

Severus recalled his initial shock after 'hearing' that, and it must have showed on his memory self's face, because Potter began frantically searching the crowd for evidence that he had spoken his gratitude aloud. Miss Granger nudged him and whispered in his ear.

"Oh, right," Potter said with a look toward the dementor, blushing. He warily stepped forward, still stoking his ribcage subconsciously.

_Hmm._

The smug look that Severus thought he had seen as he had watched from the wall was clearly absent. A resigned sigh escaped Potter's lips as the boggart began to contort. The teen watched the boggart spiral apprehensively, knowingly, as he took another step forward. But quite suddenly, Potter's eyes widened fearfully just before the boggart gave one final spin and changed into a dementor.

_Perhaps Potter was expecting the Dark Lord, _Severus mused.

Potter's eyes became terror-filled and distant; he trembled as the students collectively screamed. Lupin made to move, but the memory-Severus was closer. Severus snorted as his memory-self stepped between the boy and the boggart. _I don't know what it is about that brat that brings out the recklessness in people! Potter's going to kill me one day!_

The boggart began to spin as both Snapes regarded the dazed teen. Suddenly, a haughty, menacing laugh filled the classroom, causing Severus's memory-self to spin around, his eyes wide with shock. _Even the boggart's laugh is different than Potter's…in fact, it sounds more like—_

"You're pathetic," Boggart Potter sneered at the memory Snape. Severus turned to the real Potter to gauge his reaction.

Potter was swaying on the spot, blinking stupidly, his mouth slightly open. _Perhaps I can obliviate them all, _Severus thought grimly as he surveyed the rows of shocked faces.

"You haven't changed a bit. You're still the same sniveling, bed-wetting—"

Potter's eyes snapped wide as he took in the boggart's appearance. _Lily's emerald eyes_ quickly filled with horror as the boggart continued to taunt the teen's professor.

"That's…not…me," the real Potter uttered in half revulsion, half embarrassed tone.

"What made you think she'd ever want you? My father's—" Severus watched as a confused recognition crossed the boy's features. _Damn_. _He knows._

"Everyone sees it. You're not fooling—"

Potter's eye flashed dangerously. Severus stepped back in shock as an electric wave rippled through the air, causing some of the nearby students to gasp. Potter's eyes took on a bitter, mischevious gleam. He glared at the boggart with complete loathing. _Just another reason the boy would be better suited as my son…rather than his, _Severus mused ironically as he considered the very Snape-like leer on the very Potter-like face.

"Shut up," the boy said in a calm, dangerous tone as he took a step forward. Severus shivered.

"—sniveling—"

"You said that already—"

"—worthless, weak, miserable—"

"Shut up," Potter snapped in a firmer, more aggressive tone. He stepped closer.

"Mr Graynickers, can't even afford to buy decent under—"

Potter snorted derisively. "Yeah, look who's talking," he muttered.

_I thought that's what he said. Interesting._

"Because who could ever love a Snivellus freak—"

Potter's eyes popped wildly, maniacally. He raised his wand as he rushed forward to confront,er, 'himself.' "SHUT UP!" He shouted as he brought his wand down with a snap, pointing it at the boggart.

Severus lifted his wand. "Stop."

The memory froze. He stepped forward to examine the two Potters. The real Potter, as he had remembered, was considerably shorter than the boggart, by nearly two heads. Boggart-Potter was lean, healthy and outrageously confident; the real Potter, while he was _also_ lean, looked peaky and self-conscious, his short, gangly body swimming in his school uniform. Severus had known how wiry the boy seemed, but now that he scrutinized more closely, noticed how _dangerously_ thin he was. Potter looked as though he was recovering from repeated famines. _Probably thinks he's too good for his aunt's—_Severus stopped himself. He could make no more assumptions about this Potter. Afterall, he had missed so much…could he be wrong about everything?

Severus slowly circled the real Potter. He recognized the robes he wore from last year because of the small, burned hole on his right shoulder where Draco Malfoy had slung essence of evatsic at Potter, who, with a seeker's reflexes perhaps, dodged. It was fortunate for Potter that he avoided most of it; essence of evatsic is highly corrosive. In the end, it winded up eating through Potter's robe, his jumper, his shirt, and his skin. At the time, Severus had never questioned Potter's lack of expression as it burned through his local skin and tissue. Outside of being mildly impressed, he never thought it anything more than the Gryffindor's attempt at bravado. He didn't even question it when Potter suggested that he, Severus Snape, hated Potions Master, tend to the injury, rather than Madam Pomfrey.

But now he wondered. It seemed that everytime Potter sustained injuries in class, he asked for the teacher of the class to fix it, rather than go to the infirmery. Severus recalled the talking of Potter's different teachers discussing the fact in the lounge. Severus had never joined the conversations about Potter, who seemed a popular object of discussion among the faculty. He just sneered it off as another one of Potter's attention-getting things.

He stopped suddenly. _What's this?_ He leaned in beneath Potter's right ear. An oblong, purple bruise. _Probably Potter's reckless nature._ But Severus bent forward, peering down the back of Potter's collar. The bruise was joined by a palm and some fingers. The briuse that was sticking out of Potter's collar was obviously a thumb print, a _huge_ thumb print. By the looks of it, someone, with a very large hand, had grabbed the child from behind with a great amount of force. Severus inhaled sharply.

Severus began examining every visible skin surface. He found more bruising up Potter's robe sleeves. He found several cuts on the boy's neck and arms. He was bending down to examine Potter's ankles when something caught his eye with the child's wand hand. Severus blinked. Potter, of course, was gripping his wand like he was already a deuling master, with his thumb and forefinger, leaving his palm and other fingers slightly curled, but visible for scrutiny. Severus gasped. There, on Potter's right hand was a large, circular, spiral scar. The kind of scar someone gets when someone else deliberately holds the victim's hand to the heated eye of a Muggle cooking stove. The kind of scar that Severus was staring at in disbelief as he absently opened his own scarred hand for comparison.

After examining bruised and swolen ankles, Severus cancelled the freezing charm on the memory, once again witnessing the boggart Potter donning a set of underpants that would have rivaled the humiliation of wearing Severus's own juvenile pair.

Severus left the Pensieve. He had his answer. All this time, he had never seen Harry Potter. In fact, he was quite certain he'd never met the boy. For the last several years, all he had seen…was James. James Bloody Potter…not Harry. The evidence was as clear as the James look-alike boggart with the lightning-shaped scar.

* * *

"Snape's afraid of you! That's bloody awesome!" Ron exclaimed in an awestruck voice.

"_That _wasn't me!" Harry snapped at the obnoxious red-head for the umteenth time.

"Harry's right, Ron," Hermione said musingly. "The boggart was _way_ too tall, and its eyes and face were wrong."

"But it had the scar," Ron pointed out predictably.

Harry huffed and whirled on his friend. "I'm not anything like that…_thing_! I'd never say anything like _that!_ Well, maybe the 'pathetic' part, but not to Snape. Malfoy, maybe. But the rest of that _rubbish_—"

"Go _on,_ Harry! Don't tell me you'd miss an opportunity to tell off the greasy bastard!"

"Ronald!" Hermione scolded.

"No, but I'd have the decency to tell the truth and what he really needed to hear."

Ron frowned curiously. "Like what?"

Harry rolled his eyes and sighed in a very Hermione-ish way, as if what he was about to state was perfectly obvious. "Like he's a great, bullying git! Like he's a miserable, depressing bat, who needs to stop—"

"Erm, Harry?" Hermione said softly, her eyes looking anxiously over Harry's shoulder.

"—judging people based on their parents or Houses, or whether or not they can brew a perfect potion! Potions isn't the only thing in the world—"

"Harry?" Ron said as his eyes widened, but Harry didn't notice as he continued to rant.

"—students can have other talents. Neville is brilliant in herbology, but Snape treats him like shite because he isn't as good in potions! Neville would probably do a lot—"

"Harry—" Hermione whispered frantically.

"—better in potions if Snape would quit hovering like a bat and snarling at him and treating him like a complete moron all the time! Snape thinks he's _all_ big and scary—"

"Harry—" Ron whined fearfully in an unusually high voice.

"—but all he accomplishes at the end of the day is looking like a giant arse—" Harry cut off as he noticed his friends' behavior. A sinking feeling hit Harry as an intimidating shadow fell upon the three. "He's…right…behind me, isn't he?"

"Indeed," a smooth, silky voice replied quietly.

Harry paled as he slowly turned to face the hated Potions Master. He forced himself to look up.

Snape regarded the teen with a raised eyebrow. "Follow me, Mr Potter."

Harry's shoulders slumped as he followed Professor Snape down the corridor toward the dungeons, only barely managing to hear Ron say to Hermione,"He's done for! He'll be potion ingredients before dinner."

Harry flinched at a soft snort in front of him.

"In," Snape commanded. Harry hurried in, his head bent low like an errant puppy waiting to be scolded. Snape closed the door of his office, pointing to a chair. "Sit."

Harry sat quickly.

Snape's lips quirked as he sat behind his desk. "I'm pleased to see that you are, at least, properly house-trained, Mister Potter," he said softly.

Harry glared angrily at his fingernails before a sudden, mischevious glint appeared in his downcast emerald eyes. "I'm _especially_ good at fetching and digging, sir," He said in an ironic voice to his lap. _Particularly for the Dursleys, _he mused to himself, thinking of all of his meticulous outside chores.

Snape smirked. "I'm sure you are. I confess myself curious, Mr Potter. Tell me what, exactly, does a 'giant arse' look like?"

Harry's cheeks reddened. "Me at the moment," he muttered to himself.

"_Really_?" Harry jumped at the sardonic tone, not expecting Snape to have heard. _Of course he heard you, stupid. They don't call him Great Bat of the Dungeons for nothing!_ "And _why_, Mr Potter, would you _ever_ imagine me resembling _you_?"

Harry's blush deepened. "I'm…not _always_ an arse…sir," he said in a slightly annoyed voice.

Snape touched his fingertips together and quirked a brow. "Is that so?"

Harry's eyes shot up defiantly. "_Yes_. Sir."

Snape's mouth twitched. "How often _are_ you an arse, Mr Potter?"

Harry stared. Snape was acting rather weird. "Um…occasionally, sir?"

Snape leaned back, his mouth still twitching. "So…you imagine that I _occasionally_ resemble you?"

Harry fidgeted as he blushed deeper. "No, sir. I…occasionally resemble you…when I'm an arse," he admitted, embarrassed, to his fingers, his eyes only darting up after he had finished the comment.

"I see," Snape said softly, his obsidian eyes glittering strangely in the dim room.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Harry Potter Books are the intellectual and financial property of J.K. Rowling. I receive no financial compensation for writing fanfiction. I merely get the fantastical pleasure of playing in her world, and you get the pleasure..or displeasure…of reading the result.

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Chapter One

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* * *

"PUT ME DOWN, YOU GREASY BAT!" A small, wiry teen with untidy hair bellowed hysterically as he beat his fists upon the back of a tall man with sallow skin, a hook nose and silky black hair that hung into his face in long, greasy curtains. Students in the corridors stared, some in horror, others in amusement, as the teen kicked and squirmed in the Potion Master's arms.

Severus smirked at the boy unceremoniously slung across his shoulder like a sack of dog food. "I don't believe so, Mr Potter. We have an appointment with Madam Pomfrey. One I _don't _wish to be late for."

"NO! I'm not going! You can't make me…and…and I'm not sick!"

"You _will_ be going, I _can_ make you, and whether or not you are 'sick' as you so _eloquently_ put it, remains to be seen."

"I _hate _you!" The boy said hotly, his voice thick with pent up emotion.

"Oh, I am _thoroughly_ _crushed_ by your feelings of animosity toward me, Mr Potter. I think, after depositing you at the infirmery, I shall take a little stroll _off _the Astronomy Tower, seeing as it's the end of all life as we _know_ it." Severus replied sarcastically.

"_You _hate _me_," the child pointed out in a resentful tone. "That's why you're doing this. Because you know I…don't want to go," he finished in a dejected, dead tone.

Severus rolled his eyes. "Do you _really_ want to discuss this in the corridors, Mr Potter?"

The child paled. "No," he said quickly.

"Then desist!" Severus snarled.

A very, very, very, very, very brief moment of silence, then—

"PUT ME DOWN, RIGHT NOW!"

Severus sighed. It was going to be one _long _trip to the hospital wing.

* * *

FIFTEEN MINUTES EARLIER

Snape leaned back, his mouth still twitching. "So…you imagine that I _occasionally_ resemble you?"

Harry fidgeted. "No, sir. I…occasionally resemble you, when I'm an arse," he admitted, embarrassed, to his fingers, his eyes only darting up only after he had finished the comment.

"I see," Snape said softly, his obsidian eyes glittering strangely in the dim room.

Everything became quiet as student and teacher regarded one another. After about five minutes, Harry broke the silence.

"So, uh, what's my punishment?"

Snape leaned forward. "Do you _want _punishment, Mr Potter?"

Harry started to shake his head, but quickly stopped himself. He didn't want to give Snape the satisfaction of giving Harry punishment that he didn't want. _Wait, what?_

Snape smirked at his confused look. "_Nevermind._ Actually, prior to your _little_ speech of "everything that is wrong with Severus Snape," to this, Harry's entire face became red, "I had fully intended on discussing something else with you."

"My potions work, sir?"

"Surprisingly, no," Snape stood and strode around the desk , reaching out to take Harry's right arm. Harry flinched as Snape opened his fingers. Harry gasped as he realized what the man was doing and tried to wrench his arm away, but Snape was astonishingly strong. "I wanted to discuss…_this_," Snape said, holding Harry's fingers open to reveal the large scar inside his hand.

Harry jerked his hand away in horror. "I…it's…I…it's nothing. I'm fine," he said, hitching a look of complete indifference.

Severus's eyes flashed angrily. "It is _not_ nothing, Potter! I know exactly what causes that kind of pattern!"

Harry snorted. "How would _you_ know?"

"I know, Potter."

"How?" The boy challenged.

"I simply do."

"How?"

"I JUST DO! Merlin, you _are _infuriating! Just like your—"

"Father?" Harry snapped angrily. "Yeah, James _this _and _James_ that! Perhaps I should change my name _to _James since it's so _bloody _hard for people to just call me Harry! Either James, or Boy, or FREAK!" Harry bellowed the last word bitterly. "Why don't _you _decide? I'm not all _that _picky."

"Watch…your…attitude, Mr Potter." Snape said warningly. "Suffice it to say that I know how you obtained a scar like that—"

"How?"

Severus growled in frustration. The irony of it! Actually, Severus had been about to comment how stubborness was his mother's trait, but the boy had assumed…_This is getting nowhere, fast._

"Mr Potter, I'm going to ask you a series of question, and I expect for you to answer honestly."

The teen shrugged. "Fine," he sighed.

"Are your relatives harming you?"

Potter looked at his hands. "No."

"POTTER!"

The child flinched so hard he toppled from the chair.

Severus began again in a quiet tone. "If you don't understand what the word _honest_ means, permit me to simplify it for you: Don't…lie…to me. Now I ask again: Do your relatives hurt you?"

Potter glared over the desk. "What do _you _care? You probably just want something _else_ to rub in my _face_ during Potions class!"

Severus winced at the accusation. "Mr Potter, I am a teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It is my duty—"

"See? You really don't care, do you? You're just doing this because you have to!"

Severus glared down at the miserable brat. "I really don't have to do _anything_, Potter, except breathe and blink! I'm 'doing this' because no child deserves to be abused."

"_I _deserve it," the child mumbled to himself as he eased back into the chair.

Snape slammed his hand on the desk, causing Harry to yelp and lean away from the angry man. Snape rushed around the desk and leaned forward, his face inches from Harry's. "I'm going to say this one last time, Mr Potter. No child, not even the Dark Lord, if he ever even _was_ a child, ever deserves to be mistreated. Do you understand?"

"I'm different," Harry pointed out.

Severus was beside himself with frustration. "Merlin, child! Do you believe I say these things simply to hear myself speak?! _No _child deserves being abused, starved, or mistreated in _any_ fashion!"

Harry sniggered.

"What?"

"You said it again, sir."

Severus stared. "What are you _talking_ about?"

"You said you were going to say it one last time. Then you said it twice."

Severus closed his eyes and counted to ten. "Stop changing the subject, Potter!" He snapped as his eyes flew open at ten. He sighed. "Fine. Since you are failing to understand the seriousness of this, we'll just have to visit the infirmery."

Harry's eyes widened. "No," he said fearfully.

"Then start talking."

"I…can't," the boy stuttered, breathing shallowly.

"Your relatives can't hurt you here, Potter. You can say anything."

Harry looked at the teacher skeptically. _Yeah, right. After I tell, they'll send me back anyways…and probably fire you…just like last time._

Severus stared at the child. "Have you…told a teacher before?"

Harry stared at the Professor in shock. He always felt like Snape could read minds. He looked down at his hands, silently.

Severus sighed. "Very well, Mr Potter. The infirmery."

"No!"

"After _you_," Severus said, motioning toward the door. Harry's shoulders slumped as he strode outside the office. As Severus turned to lock the door, Harry bolted.

Severus spun around. "POTTER! GET BACK HERE, POTTER!"

…

Harry could hear robes billowing behind him as he sprinted up the spiral staircase. As he reached the top, he felt strong arms lift his feet from the floor and sling him over a black-robed shoulder.

"Lemme go!" He protested, swinging his legs out.

"I assure you, Mr Potter, that you _will _be visiting the hospital wing, whether you want to or not!" The man pushed the door open with a resounding crash and strode purposefully down the corridor.

Panicking, Harry pounded the muscular back with his clenched fists, lashing out with his legs.

"PUT ME DOWN, YOU GREASY BAT!"

* * *

Harry Potter pushed on the cold, padded surface of the examining table, squirming as he cast angry glares at the Potions Master, who had placed a sticking charm on the teen to prevent his escape. Said Potions Master was characteristically leaning against the nearest wall with his arms folded carefully over his chest. Harry gasped as he heard a rip come from beneath him. Professor Snape covered his mouth and 'coughed' silently.

"This isn't funny!" Harry said angrily as tears stung his eyes.

"Don't worry, Mr Potter. I can fix your garments when Madam Pomfrey finishes your examination. Never fear. Your graypants secret is safe with me."

"What are you talking about? Everyone in Lupin's class saw my nickers."

"No, Potter. They saw the nickers on the boggart. No one knows what your underwear really looks like."

Harry shook his head. Surely Professor Snape wasn't ignorant enough to believe that the students were so obtuse that they wouldn't guess.

Severus glanced at the boy curiously. "Why did you do it?"

Harry shrugged. "I was angry."

"You could have done _anything_ to the boggart. Why the shorts?"

"I wanted him to feel what it was like to be humiliated. Maybe he wouldn't have said those terrible things if _he_ knew how it felt," Harry said, tensing as he remembered some of the things his cousin had done to him.

"He was a boggart, Harry. A _boggart_. Boggarts change into our greatest fear as a defense mechanism. _If _boggarts learn anything, I seriously _doubt_ their education exceeds anything past their own self-preservation."

The boy nodded. "I know. I guess I was so angry I forgot it was just a boggart." Harry's eyes widened as he stared at the potions professor.

"What?"

"You said my name."

Severus blinked. He did, didn't he? He shrugged. "Ah, well. _Accidents _happen."

Potter's shoulders slumped dejectedly. Severus strode toward the padded examination table.

"You tell anyone about that, Potter, and I'll humiliate you beyond your _worst_ nightmares."

Harry's gaze shot up defiantly. But his curiosity got the best of him. "How would you do _that_?"

Snape billowed the rest of the way over to the table with a satisfied smirk. "Well, you see, Mr Potter, your mother was terribly ticklish in a particular spot; if it's genetic, and with any luck you should wet your moldy, holey, graying underpants. The _ultimate_ humiliation."

Harry looked into the glittering obsidian eyes and stared. Snape's face muscles worked as he tried to control himself. Harry snorted at his effort, which caused both to burst into laughter, baritone mingling with soft tenor, which was only interrupted by a blinding flash of white light. Both abruptly stopped.

"Ah, one for the scrapbooks, that," a familiar, serene voice said as the Headmaster stepped into view, holding a camera, eyes twinkling madly.

Livid, Severus pointed an accusing finger. "YOU'VE BEEN SPYING ON ME!"

Dumbledore chuckled. "It takes one to know one, my dear Severus. Actually, my boy, I've come on a more serious matter. After Harry's examination, I'd like the both of you to come to my office to chat. I'm afraid some very disturbing things have come to light. I've also come to tell you that Madam Pomfrey is going to be ten minutes late."

Harry groaned as Dumbledore left. "Can't I just go?"

"I'm afraid not. At this point, even if you were to tell me everything that happened, I have reason to believe that you have some unhealed injuries that need looking after. You still need this examination, just in case there are any life-threatening complications."

"I'm still alive," Harry mumbled.

"And perhaps you'll manage to stay that way between those disgusting Muggles, Quidditch, the dementors, and that _wretched _mutt!"

Harry blinked. "You _know_ about the Grim?"

Severus flinched in shock. "_You've_ seen Black?"

...

"Tell me everything. When did you see him?"

"I don't understand. Are you saying the Grim is Sirius Black?"

"Sirius Black takes the animagus form of a large, black, shaggy dog. You know what an animagus is?"

"Like Professor McGonagall? So Black's the Grim?"

"Yes, Minerva is an animagus. Tell me when you saw Black."

"I saw him in the bushes near the play park when I ran away from home. Just before I got on the Knight Bus."

"Did he do anything?"

"No. He just stared at me."

"Odd. Why didn't he attack you right away?"

"He looked hungry. Maybe I was too scrawny a prey."

Severus snorted. "As psychotic as that mongrel is, I seriously doubt he'd resort to cannibalism."

Harry laughed. "You said Siriusly."

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Potter!"

Harry grinned. "Maybe we can sic the dog on Crookshanks. Then maybe it'll leave Ron's rat alone."

"Foolish boy! Don't you go anywhere near that dog! In fact, if you see him ever again, you tell a Professor. Understand?"

Harry bit his lip. "Yes, sir."

Severus sighed. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, Potter. But this is seriou—damn it!"

Harry sniggered.

"All right, smart arse. Just keep away from the mutt. Got it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good boy."

"Ruff."

"_Do_ shut up."

...

By the time Madam Pomfrey returned to the infirmery, Harry was beginning to squirm again, becoming increasingly agitated.

"I don't want to do this! Please, can't I go?"

"After the examination, Potter."

"Please?"

"Potter—"

"PLEASE! NO! I CAN'T DO THIS! I CAN'T. I have…TO GET AWAY!" Harry pulled at himself frantically from the exam table, wrenching this way and that, his clothes ripping with his efforts. Harry's breaths shortened as he struggled fiercely against the sticking charm that held him in place. His rapid breathing quickened to high pitched wheezing, his eyes grew wide with panic as he clawed at his neck. He immediately found himself surrounded by something dark and warm, feeling a vial pressing to his lips.

"Steady, Potter. You're having a panic attack. Drink this. It's Calming Draught." Desperate for relief, Harry opened his mouth and allowed the liquid to pour down his throat. "Good. Now take deep breaths. Your lungs will hurt at first. Just follow the sound of my voice…in…and out…in…and out—"

Harry obeyed the instructions, and the constriction in his lungs finally ebbed. He sobbed silently into the dark robes. He felt someone rubbing small circles on his back, singing something in a language he'd heard somewhere before, but couldn't place it. As he calmed, Severus handed him a hankerchief while continuing to rub his back.

"What language is that?" Harry asked, hiccuping.

Severus ignored the question. He turned to face the approaching mediwitch. "Poppy, Mr Potter needs a full medical can—"

"Do not," Harry muttered.

Madam Pomphrey sighed as she flicked her wand. "What's Potter got into _now_? Fell off a broom? Explode a potion? Oh…oh, my! Oh…Severus!" She clamped a hand over her mouth as she began reading the parchment that was steadily increasing with length. Harry slumped on the table, shaking and pale as the potions master strode toward the mediwitch, who pointed at something on the parchment. Snape inhaled sharply as a murderous look crossed his features.

Madam Pomphrey schooled her features as she passed the document to the potions master and approached Harry. "Well, Mr Potter, it would seem that someone's done a number on you," she said softly as a derisive snort ecchoed through the room from behind.

To distract his attention from the rage he felt, Severus began reading reading the parchment from the start.

_Name__: Harry James Potter  
__DOB__: 31 July 1980  
__Medical History__:  
Six month stasis charm performed on pregnancy—_

"WHAT?" Severus shouted, staring at the parchment in disbelief. Patient and Mediwitch stared at him. He stared back, wild eyed at the seated child. He stared at the paper again.

_--during first trimester.  
Patrillineal glamour charms and potions taken at birth.  
Lightning shaped cut retained—_

"No. No, no, no," he murmured softly. "Lily, what have you done?" The mediwitch, curious, walked over to the parchment and read the parchment again, this time more carefully.

"Oh, _dear_. Does this mean what I think it means, Severus?"

The potions master shakily downed a calming draught. "If Albus knew about this, I'll murder him," he said between clenched teeth.

The midiwitch scoffed. "Oh if I had a knut every time you said that, Severus—"

"I. Don't. Care. That meddling, interfering coot has gone too far this time, Poppy. HOW COULD HE NOT TELL ME?!"

Harry's eyes widened at the irate, wild-eyed potions master.

"Calm down, Severus. You're frightening the boy. Injuries first," the mediwitch replied. "Mr Potter, I'm rather impressed that you're still walking around. Currently, you have two cracked ribs, a fractured wrist, a broken coxyx—"

Severus slapped his forehead for his stupidity, immediately severing the sticking charm. Harry jumped from the table, doubling over in pain. "Merlin, Potter! Honestly! Why didn't you say you were experiencing discomfort?"

"I'm…it…I'm okay, professor," Harry gasped.

"Merlin, save me from dunderheaded Gryffindors," Harry heard Snape mutter.

Madam Pomphrey continued. "You're going to have to stay the night, Potter—"

"No," Harry murmured. "Please—"

"No nothing! It's going to take all night just to repair the damage of you living with those horrid relatives of yours! In addition to the aforementioned, you have countless previous injuries that I'm going to have to rebreak for them to heal correctly. If you think _regrowing your arm_ was painful…scratch that. There's no way I'll let you be conscious for it. I'll be back with the Dreamless Sleep."

Harry fidgeted.

Severus motioned to a nearby bed. "Well, come along. Wouldn't want Dumbledore's _precious _Gryffindor to hit his head when the Dreamless Sleep kicks in," Severus said, attempting to sneer but failing miserably.

"But sir, what about the meeting with Dumbledore—"

"_Professor_ Dumbledore, Potter. Not to worry. _I'll_ handle Albus," he said grimly, causing Harry to shiver slightly. Harry gingerly sat on the bed, his face betraying little of the pain he was experiencing by the action, and leaned back onto the elevated headrest. Severus winced at the obviousness in Potter's eyes. _And the idiot potions master stuck him to a table with a broken coxyx! No wonder the brat was ripping his clothes._

Madam Pomphrey returned with several bottles. "Alright, Mr Potter. I'll be having you take a series of potions, the first being a nutrient potion. The next will be Skelegrow, obviously. And the final will be the Dreamless Sleep. You'll be kept overnight for monitoring, once we've set and reset your bones. And we'll have to do something about all of those bruises. I'm afraid we can do nothing about your old scars, but we may be able to diminish fresh ones. Bottoms up!"

She handed the vials to Harry, who downed them, grimacing only at the Skelegrow. The child's lids grew heavy, and he slumped against the bed, while Poopy Pomphrey spelled his clothes into a hospital gown. She nodded grimly at the potions master, and they set to work, seting the new injuries and mending them and rebreaking old injuries to set them correctly. Severus marveled at the boy's ability to walk without a noticable limp as he rebroke and set a particularly nasty leg injury.

"Well, now we know why Potter's handwriting was so lamentable. Now he'll be without excuse," Severus muttered as he rebroke some of Harry's fingers and reset them.

Poppy tsked. "Honestly, Severus! Must you belittle the boy on everything?"

"He's Potter," Severus sputtered lamely, as though the 'fact' explained everything.

"Perhaps not, Severus. You read the parchment. Those charms and potions are rarely used unless to conceal paternity of a child—"

"I know that! But the boy was still raised a Potter—" Severus stammered, his heart racing.

"Don't be ridiculous, Severus! Are you actually telling me that you still believe Harry to be a spoiled, pampered boy? _What _is your problem, Severus? Why are you so set on hanging onto the notion that Harry is—oh, Severus," she finished, cottoning on as the pale potions master sank, trembling, into a nearby chair, holding his hand over his mouth.

"I'm such a fool, Poppy. How could I not see it? I've seen him for over two years! How could I not notice that he's…he's—Lily," he whispered.

"He's yours?" She inquired softly.

Severus stared at the slumbering child. "The timeline makes sense. I was with her shortly before she discovered the mark. I tried to explain about it, my grandfather and Lucius, but she had given me so many chances. I'll never forget the broken, disappointed look she had on her face when she left.

"I should have refused, Poppy. I would have been dead, but at least Lily would have been proud of me. If I had refused, Lily would still be alive…I wouldn't have made THE STUPID MISTAKE OF TELLING THE PROPHECY—"

"That's enough, Severus—"

"I was a coward, Poppy. If I would have refused the mark the day Lucius had grabbed me in Diagon Alley—"

"Severus—"

"Harry would still have his mother—"

"HE HAS A FATHER!" Poppy shouted.

Severus snorted. "Of course! Severus Snape, the Death Eater! Trust me, Poppy. He would have been better off with his mother—"

"Do me a favor, Severus, and SHUT UP! Don't you see? There's no point of arguing it now, because Lily is dead, and you are Harry's father! Harry has a father!"

Severus stood and pointed his wand. "No, he doesn't. _Obliviate!_ Poppy, tell me when the boy awakes," he said as he pocketed the parchment and left.

_I can't be a father. I can't! What if I become exactly like my father? Well, I may not be able to be a father to the boy, but I can ensure that he never goes back to those people again. Merlin, I can't believe this. I have a son—_

He stopped in front of the stone gargoyle. "ALBUS! I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!"

…

"Severus, my boy! Where's Harry?"

Severus snorted. "The boy's in the infirmery, recovering from his injuries. Honestly, Albus! How could you put him with those people!"

"He has to stay there, Severus. It's the only protection he has from Voldemort. The blood wards—"

"Hang the blood wards, Albus! Potter had broken ribs! What if the next time his relatives decide to 'discipline him,' he turns up dead? What good will _precious Potter_ be then, hmm?"

Albus winced. "Severus, can't you see it? Harry isn't his father. He's more like Lily than James…he even has more in common with you than—"

"You knew, then," he spat angrily. Dumbledore's eyes widened for a moment before he shook his head, chuckling.

"It became obvious when Lily handed me the two letters to give you and Harry when Harry became of age."

"I want to see the letters," Severus said angrily.

"Of course, I'll give you your letter, Severus. But Harry's letter belongs to him, does it not?" Albus pulled an ornate box from the shelf and pulled a stiff envelope from the paper. Severus snatched it away and pulled his letter opener.

_My dearest Severus,_

_If you're reading this letter, it's because I'm dead, and our son has reached his seventeenth birthday. Albus told me everything. I'm sorry I didn't listen to you when you tried to explain. I was so upset and disappointed that I couldn't see, hear, or think straight. As soon as I left, I sought out Minerva to place a stasis charm on our boy. She doesn't remember this, of course, so don't bother asking her for confirmation._

_Yes, Severus. You have a son. Today, he goes by the name of Harry James Potter. His true name, the name that only I, James, and now you know is Harrison James Severus Snape. James knows. He's been so understanding considering Harry. James approached me a couple of months after I left you, and I told him everything. He asked me to marry him a month later, and I consented. I removed the stasis charm a few months later, and nobody was the wiser._

_Harry will also be getting a letter concerning this, and I hope that you two will get aquainted. I want Harry to know the brave, wonderful person his father really was__. Please, Sev, I know you'll make a good father. You don't have to be afraid. Just show him the same Severus Snape that I know is inside you still. The same one that would risk everything to keep his best friend and arch nemesis safe from an evil tyrant._

_I will always love you,_

_Lily_

Severus accepted the proffered hankerchief from the older man.

"I have a son," he said quietly.


End file.
